


With My Last Breath

by ghostofsmilespassed



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Needles, angst with a ton of fluff, basically patrick visiting him in the hospital and its fluffy gay goodness, pete gets hurt but its not that graphic?, violence m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:59:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofsmilespassed/pseuds/ghostofsmilespassed
Summary: Pete gets hurt and Patrick comes to see him. Fluffy angsty gay stuff





	With My Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Madison for beta'ing this fic for me! She's @/rosecolouredgorl on tumblr, go follow her!!!

Pete gasped, holding his hand up to the knife wound in his side. His attacker had run off down the alley, pushing past a woman that was now calling the police. He glanced at her before falling back, his head hitting the pavement hard. Through the throbbing in his head, he faintly remembered something about leaving knives in you rather than pulling them out; something to do with bleeding to death faster? Pete didn't really remember, but he couldn't care; it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

Pete groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the pain. He’d worked so hard today, staying in the studio until dark, and now he was lying on the ground in an alley. Their album was almost finished; Pete really hoped he would have got to see it completed. 

With shaking hands Pete reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, dialing Patrick's number immediately. He wasn’t really sure why at first; if anything he should call his mom, or his brother, or maybe a damn ambulance. As soon as it started to ring, though, he felt instantly calmer. Patrick made him feel safe, he always had, and, if nothing else right now, Pete needed something comforting. 

Pete breathed deeply, trying to sound normal. 

"Hello?" Patrick's voice was so beautiful on the other end of the line; he sounded sleepy, like he always was after recording. 

"Hey Tricky, what are you up to?"

"I made tea before bed, why? What's up Wentz?" 

Pete stared up at the sky, watching the clouds slowly move away to reveal the stars. It was gorgeous, and helped to soothe him even more. “Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” he said, softer than before. 

Patrick laughed, and Pete felt his heart stutter, but that could have been the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death. "Pete, you listened to my voice all day man. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Rick, don't worry," Pete hesitated, before speaking quietly. "Patrick, you know I love you, right? Like.. You're my best friend in the entire world." He could feel Patrick's frown through the phone, and hoped he wasn't worrying him too much.

"Yeah, and I love you too, dumbass. Pete.. Is something wrong? Do you need me to come get you..?"

Pete shook his head despite the fact that his friend couldn't see him. "Nah, it's okay, really. Just.. Wanted to remind you." 

Patrick hummed, and Pete shivered. His vision was getting weird, and he knew he had to hurry before he ran out of time. "Patrick.. I-I love you a lot, okay? Like.. Just always know that, okay? I'm not making much sense, I know, but when do I ever right? Just.. Yeah,” he chuckled breathlessly, wincing at how his laughter made the pain in his side so much worse. 

"I love you too Pete. You're okay, really. Just.. Tell me if something's wrong, okay?" 

Pete smiled. Patrick cared about him, he always had honestly. Patrick was there with him through everything, and even if he didn’t realize it, he was helping him now, too. Patrick loved him, in his own way, and even though Pete longed for him to feel the same love he did, for now, the thought that he mattered to Patrick Stump at all was enough. 

"I gotta go, Trick. I hope you have a good night," he said softly, tilting away from the phone to gasp and spit out blood. 

"Goodnight Petey, talk to you later."

Pete dropped the phone, his breaths coming out harder. He faintly heard the sound of a siren, but he doubt they would make it in time. He closed his eyes, trying to pull up a memory to make this hurt less. 

As Pete felt his fingers start to numb, he thought back to one of their first hotel nights that Patrick and him had shared a bed. Patrick was shy at first, of course, bitching whenever Pete made a stupid joke. By the third Star Wars movie, however, he was sitting right beside Pete, their knees touching. Pete coughed again, groaning as his chest started to go numb as well, and desperately clung on to that memory. Patrick went to bed first, watching anxiously as Pete got ready for bed. He knew it would make him uncomfortable if he took his shirt off, so that’s exactly what Pete did before turning off the bedside lamp and crawling in beside Patrick. He kept his distance, at first, but little by little Patrick scooted closer, until his arms slowly started to wrap against Pete’s torso. He felt Patrick press his nose against his shoulder blade, and had to bite his lip to stop smiling. As Pete slowly started to fall asleep, both then and now, he could feel Patrick’s warm breath when he whispered, “Goodnight, Pete.” 

~//~

Pete didn’t know when he started to be able to feel things again. It started slowly, with his toes suddenly coming back into existence. Pete tried to wiggle them, to regain feeling in his legs, but it was like a fog was pressing him down, keeping his whole body in the dark. The next time he felt something, it was a hand against his arm. The fingers were cold and unknown, and then suddenly there was a stabbing sensation. Vaguely, he registered it as a needle. Pete tried to move, to get the attention of whoever was prodding him, but he didn’t seem to be able to. After a moment, the fingers disappeared, and took the touch with it. 

The final time Pete started to feel something, it was his head. It started throbbing, a strange ache just behind his eyes. He tried to move them, to turn his head to make the pain go away, and then suddenly his body was back. Pete’s eyes flew open, and he gasped as he suddenly was able to take in his surroundings. 

The hospital room was the stereotypical bright white and green, with a few chairs in the corners. There were flowers on every table he could see, and a few on the floor underneath the T.V. The floor itself was tile, and smelled faintly of bleach even from here. The bed Pete was currently occupying was stiff and uncomfortable, similar to how he felt. 

Pete strained to turn his head, his eyes raking over the tubes attached to his arm. A needle was taped to his arm, and he tried to lift it once before giving up. He felt tired, his throat was dry, and everything ached in a peculiar way. The door opened suddenly, and Pete slowly turned his head to watch a nurse walked in, followed by someone familiar. 

He vaguely registered the nurse changing IV bags, telling him that the doctor would be in soon to check on him. Patrick was staring at him, wide eyed, not moving from his spot by the door. Pete's stomach twisted at the few tears that fell down his cheeks. The nurse left quickly, shutting the door behind her, and Patrick slowly walked forward. His eyes never left Pete’s as he carefully sat down in the chair beside his bed.

Pete stared at him, thinking that he looked so much like an angel. He was without his hat but was wearing his glasses, his hoodie zipped up tight. There were a few rain drops in his hair, and Pete wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it. 

Instead, he shakily reached for Patrick's hand, attempting to smile at him. "Y'know, they should've given you a sexy nurse costume whenever you came in. I might get better faster." 

Patrick laughed, more tears falling from his eyes. "You almost fucking died, and you still... Fuck, Wentz, what am I gonna do with you?"

Pete laughed, trying to cover his anxiousness. He almost died? ...Everyone must have been so worried, especially Patrick. “I have some ideas, Rickster.” Joking seemed the best way to go, he thought. Making Patrick laugh seemed like the point of his entire existence, anyway. Well, aside from pissing him off too, but that wasn’t relevant at the time. 

Patrick shook his head, but scooted closer, running his cold fingers through Pete's hair. "Petey.. You almost died," he said softly, blue eyes staring into Pete's brown ones. 

Pete nodded," Yeah.. How long have I been here?"

"Almost four days man.. You scared the hell out of us, Pete." 

The bassist nodded, lacing his fingers through Patrick's. "Sorry," he whispered. Pete was stupid, so fucking stupid. If he’d just called the ambulance instead, had gotten it there sooner...

Patrick shook his head, leaning forward to wrap his arms loosely around Peter's shoulders. Pete could feel tears soaking through his hospital gown, and Patrick's warm breath on his neck. 

"Don't.. Don't you dare apologize. You're alive, Pete.. Oh god, you're okay.." 

Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's middle, pressing his lips to his hair. "It's okay, Tricky it's alright. I'm right here, Trick." He silently willed the fear to leave Patrick’s mind, as if that would help. Pete had caused him enough worrying for a lifetime, no doubt, and he wanted that worry to end as soon as humanly possible. 

The singer nodded, pulling back to take a shaky breath. He met Pete's eyes with a watery smile. "That's.. That's why you called me, huh?" 

Pete nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I.. I didn't want to worry you," Patrick laughed, cupping Pete's face with his hand, "but.. I had to tell you.. I.. I needed you to know, Trick. I didn't.." Pete huffed in frustration, looking down. "I couldn't.. Patrick, I had to make sure you knew that you mean the world to me.. I was so sure I was gonna die, man, and I didn't..." Pete shook his head, feeling tears form in his own eyes. He almost died and scared the fuck out of Patrick, he couldn’t just drop his stupid 14-year-long crush on the poor guy too. 

"Pete," Patrick breathed, warm breath washing over Pete's face. The bassist looked up, heart melting at the gorgeous blue eyes staring at him. 

"I never," he swallowed, choking up, " Pete I never ever doubted that.. You.." Patrick shook his head, running his thumb over Pete's cheekbone. 

Before either of them could speak, the door opened, and a man walked in. He was in a long white coat, looking down at the chart in his hands. Patrick hurried to move out of the way, standing awkwardly in the corner. His cheeks were a lighter shade of pink, making Pete smile slightly as he turned back to the doctor. He was an older black man, with kind dark eyes. He smiled at Pete, and spoke with a deep and warm voice. " Hello Mr.Wentz, I'm Doctor Peterson. It's good to see you with your eyes open, son. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Pete nodded, "I was walking home, and was jumped by some kid.. He pushed me into the alley, holding the knife to my neck, and asked for my wallet. After I gave it to him, along with my watch and necklace, he stabbed me." Pete frowned, glancing over at Patrick. 

"Did they catch him?" he asked, watching as Patrick shook his head. 

The doctor sighed, "Well, you weren't awake to give a statement. The girl that called the ambulance didn't see much of the kid, so if you feel up to it, I'm sure the police would like to hear from you." 

Pete nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I.. Can I talk to them tomorrow?" 

The doctor nodded, smiling kindly at him. "You don't have to speak to anyone until you feel up to it, Peter. Now," he looked down at his chart again, "You suffered a pretty deep stab wound to your side, and it almost completely went through your liver, and caused a bit of internal bleeding. There was also a fairly deep gash on the back of your head, I figure that happened when you fell?. ” He said, smiling when Pete nodded. 

“You should be discharged in a few days, as long as your improvement remains constant. However, " the doctor looked over at Patrick, his face changing from friendly to serious in seconds, "He can only have four visitors in the room at the time, and only one person after visiting hours are over. If you bring him food, then it needs to be somewhat light on his stomach." 

Patrick nodded, eyes wide as he focused on every word the man said. Pete knew Patrick would be following every instruction as carefully as he could, bitching at anyone that tried to do something else. 

The doctor turned back to Pete, warm smile present once more. "I'm sure you'll want some time to rest, so I'll let you be. I'll be back in a few hours to check on your monitors, but if you need me before then, press the call button." Doctor Peterson smiled at them both before leaving, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Pete leaned back and rested his head against the pillows, closing his eyes. He heard Patrick shuffle closer, taking his place in the chair beside the bed. "Your mom is in town. She stayed in the hospital for almost an entire week, but me and Andy managed to convince her to get a hotel. I left her a message, so she should be here first thing in the morning." 

Pete nodded, opening his eyes to look up at Patrick. "Do you need to go home?" 

The singer shook his head." I'm not leaving you, Petey." The bassist knew from experience that there was really no point in arguing with the younger boy. He nodded, smiling sheepishly up at him. 

Patrick smiled at him, fingers lightly touching his face again. "Do you need anything?" 

Pete shook his head, and Patrick nodded. For a moment, they sat in silence, staring at one another. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the way Patrick’s blue eyes seemed to scan Pete’s entire body before returning to his eyes. It gave Pete time to look at him anyway, and admiring Patrick was always a favorite pastime of his. He had just started counting the freckles on Patrick’s nose when the singer finally broke into a grin.

"Sleeping in that chair can't be comfortable," Pete said, watching as Patrick stood and shrugged off his hoodie. He was wearing one of Pete's Metallica t-shirts underneath, and Pete almost melted. He must have stolen that while they were on tour, he thought, warmth spreading slowly from his heart into the rest of his body. 

"It's whatever. I am not getting a hotel, Pete." 

Pete raised his hands in defense, smiling at Patrick. "I'm just saying, man, I'm not exactly a big guy. You could share the bed with me; it's not like we haven't slept together before." 

Patrick rolled his eyes, "Of course you had to say it like that." 

Grinning, Pete shifted closer to his monitors, making enough room for Patrick to slide into the bed beside him. The younger man took off his shoes and climbed into the bed. He carefully wrapped one arm around Pete's chest, resting his head on the other. 

"Hey," Pete said quietly, his nose almost touching Patrick's. 

"Hi," Patrick whispered. 

As cliche as it was, the world slowed down. Pete wasn't focusing on anything but Patrick; the feel of the younger man against him, how warm and soft he was, how safe Pete felt with him. 

Patrick carefully brushed his fingers over Pete's collarbone, exposed by the hospital gown. Pete shivered, brushing his fingers down the younger man's spine. He felt him shiver against his side, and Pete blushed when he heard the heart rate monitor speed up. Patrick smirked, his own cheeks turning pink despite it. "Pete... When... When you called me... Did.." 

Patrick couldn't finish his sentence; he bit his lip, looking down at his hand on Pete's chest. The bassist grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. 

"If.. If you're asking what I think you are, then... Yeah. Yeah, Patrick, yes." 

The singer bit his lip, looking up at Pete. He let go of Pete's hand and cupped Pete's face, shifting closer slightly. "Can I?" He breathed, so close that Pete could practically taste him. 

The bassist didn't reply, only shifted forward, pressing his lips against Patrick's softly. For a moment, they stayed motionless, until Patrick opened his mouth the slightest bit. Pete pressed his tongue against his soft bottom lip, and both of them gasped as their kiss deepened. Patrick shivered and groaned, his lips wrapping around Pete's tongue. 

The bassist shivered, breathing hard as he pulled away. Patrick stared at him, blue eyes glancing at the monitor behind him for a moment. He smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. "We should, um... We should probably save that for later, Pete, since your heart rate thingy is kind of losing its shit." 

Pete laughed and nodded, shifting so that Patrick was pressed more tightly against his side. “You should sleep, Trick,” he said softly, kissing his nose. The singer hummed, curling closer to Pete. Patrick’s fingers gripped the fabric of his hospital gown loosely, tracing small circles over Pete’s heart with his fingertips. 

“Love you,” Patrick whispered, sounding so sleepy already. Pete figured he’d stayed at the hospital for a while, refusing to leave. With a soft smile, he pressed his forehead against Patrick’s, and closed his eyes. 

“Love you too, Rick.”

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my fanfic blog on tumblr, also. I'm not sure if I'll come back to melodies, but I will have some more one-shots out this week. Sorry my work is always such a mess.


End file.
